FarewellReunion
by Foundation of Dreams
Summary: What Hugo wittnessed at Hermione's funeral. Extremly short one shot! I can't think of a good summary, so read!


**Well, I usually write Twilight fics but...this kinda popped into my head, and I decided to go with it. **

**One shot only**

**If a title for this pops into your head while reading this, a certain line that stood out maybe? please let me know. I'm not a big fan of the title I have now. **

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It was finally over.

The small group of people, all dressed in black, were slowly making their way down the paved path, out of the small family cemetery. All except a tall, lanky man who looked to be in his forties, with grey streaks in his brown hair, a petite woman, probably around the same age, give or take a few years, with long, bushy red hair that was also starting to grey, and a teenage girl, a bit taller than the older woman, with long, red hair and freckles.

The girl took a step, moving closer to the man, and laid a small hand on his forearm. "Daddy?" she asked, but the older woman broke in, her voice soft and gentle.

"Go on back to the house, Kylie. We'll be there in a few minutes," she said. After a moment's hesitation, the girl nodded, and took a step back.

"Okay, Auntie Rose," she murmured, and walked down the path and out the wooden gate, leaving the brother and sister alone.

Rose moved over to stand by her brother, and he silently put his arm around her and pulled her closer to him.

"We knew she wasn't going to last long without him," Rose said quietly, a tear sliding down her cheek, her eyes fixed on the two headstones in the shade of the willow tree.

Their father had been killed five months previously in his duties as an Auror. Their mother had followed only two days ago, peacefully, in her sleep.

Hugo nodded, not speaking. After a few more moments of silence, Rose stepped away.

"Come when you're ready," she said softly, her voice thick, and hurried away, wiping at her eyes with a handkerchief.

It was a long time before Hugo moved. The sun had begun to set, the sky a mixture of purples, pink, and oranges, all reflected in the snow that was covering the ground.

He stepped forward and whispered an "I love you" as he laid a rose on each of his parents' graves, then turned and walked down the path. He shut the wooden gate behind him with a soft 'click,' then turned to take a last look.

There, leaning against the trunk of the willow tree, was a tall, gangly, familiar looking youth with bright red hair. His shirt was a dark blue button down. His hands were jammed into the pockets of his jeans, and he appeared to be waiting for something. Or someone.

Hugo stared at the boy, confused. He was sure he had been the last person to leave the graveyard. He didn't even remember this boy being at the service.

Then, a girl came out from behind the tree. She was wearing a white sundress, and should've been freezing, as it was starting to snow again. She walked towards the boy, beaming, a rose very similar to the one that Hugo had just placed on his mother's grave in her hand. She was much shorter than the boy, and she had a slender frame. Her hair was brown and bushy, but pulled back into a French braid. She, like the boy, couldn't have been any older than eighteen.

When the boy saw her, his face brightened, and, grinning, he pushed away from the willow and embraced the girl, placing a tender kiss on the top of her head. The girl smiled, happy tears rolling down her cheeks as she threw her arms around the boy.

A sudden gust of wind stung Hugo's face as snow swirled around the boy and girl. The two seemed to dissolve, to disappear, like vapors in the wind. He blinked, and they were gone.

Hugo stared at the spot under the willow for a moment, then looked all around him. They were nowhere in sight, and there was nowhere for them to disappear to, either. The only other thing in sight was the old house, known as the Burrow. Other than that, the land was empty and white as far as he could see.

Maybe he'd just imagined it. That had to be it.

Hugo made his way back through the snow towards the house. He shook the snow off his coat in the entry, not quite ready to face the rest of the family yet. He took a look at the pictures framed on the wall. They were mostly engagement pictures of all his uncles, and his aunt. Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry, Uncle George and Aunt Angelina, Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur. His eyes fell on his parents, and he had to take a closer look.

"Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, age eighteen" was written in small, neat letters, his mother's handwriting, in the bottom right corner of the picture.

They were out by that same willow tree, before the grave yard was made there. It was summertime, and there was a swing hanging from one of the branches.

Hermione was wearing a white summer dress, her hair in a French braid. She was sitting on the swing. Ron was standing behind her with his hands on her waist, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a dark blue button down shirt.

Hermione kept looking up at Ron, and Ron would always grin down at her, and kiss her, ever so sweetly, on the top of her head.

As Hugo watched, a single red rose appeared in Hermione's hand. She smiled down at it, and a teardrop landed in the center of the rose. She looked up and wiped her eyes, and stole another glance at Ron. He nodded, a small smile on his lips. Hermione looked out of the picture frame, towards her son, and said,

"We love you, Baby."


End file.
